


Not Father's Warband

by Rinari7



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Charr (Guild Wars), F/M, Flame Legion, Gen, Goodbyes, Misogynistic Society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coddled Flame Legion female healer has been comandeered by the shaman of a castrum to serve his battalion. She is, however, given the opportunity to say farewell to the life she has led up until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Father's Warband

**Author's Note:**

> I know the Flame Legion isn't known for being nice to females, or treating them well, or letting them learn magic.  
> But if you assume that, for some reason or other, a female cub was born out away from the Citadel or a village, and raised by her sire, whose warband needed someone to fill in as a medic... it's not altogether implausible. And maybe Auvela is something of a "special snowflake" in this regard, but I wanted to play with a happy, well-treated girl thrust into a severe, misogynistic society.

Auvela had to ask for directions to find the barracks in the Castrum. The guard at the bottom of the shaman's tower narrowed his eyes at her, curling his lip with a pointed look at her scepter. It made her fiddle with the scepter—really nothing more than a gnarled branch she'd carved a few swirls on, and rather clumsily at that—and wonder firstly what she had done wrong, and then why he didn't say anything about it.  
  
_Right. I really shouldn't even have…_ She bit back an internal cringe and smiled at the guard as she thanked him, twisting her paw to sort-of hide her scepter behind her skirt.  _Father did warn me._

 

She saw few females as she made her way across the courtyard of the fortress. That didn't faze her—she was used to being the only female among an entire warband of males. What did make her duck her head and pick up her pace, purely instinctively, were some of the looks that came her way—some appraising, some disgusted, some distinctly _hungry_.

 _This isn't the fahrar anymore_ , her father was fond of saying, especially after Tovarus had joined. Not that she had ever been in a fahrar, but it seemed applicable now. _This isn't father's warband anymore._

 

She tried to remain inconspicuous as she slipped into the barracks, closing the door softly behind her, but she felt eyes on her nonetheless.  
“Who're you coming to see?” The soldier closest to the door, large and muscular, black as night with fiery orange eyes, shifted his jaw from one side to the other as he looked down his muzzle at her.  
“Ember warband. Sir.” A chorus of snorts echoed, some chuckles, accompanied by appraising glances, almost drowning out her next sentence: “They just arrived today, sir.”  
“They're in the guest barracks, then. Through there, then the second room to the right.” The black Charr pointed.  
“Sure she won't collapse from exhaustion after the first few, Sarge?” a voice from the back guffawed. “Might want to call for someone else to help her out.”  
  
Auvela furrowed her brow, puzzled, until it slowly dawned on her. Father had mentioned it, gruffly, quickly—the “duties” some castrums expected females to fulfill. “Oh! Oh, no, it's not like that--”  
“I don't care! Shut it, both of you!” The black-furred—sergeant, apparently—growled, before jerking his head at her and pointing down the hall with his thumb. “Get.”  
  
Clamping a paw over the folds of her skirt to keep her scepter out of sight, she scampered on two legs in the direction the officer had indicated.  
His directions were correct, and she practically stumbled into Tovarus.  
  


“Hey, hey, take it easy!” The young blond-furred male, only a few years older than Auvela, steadied her, smiling, tossing his head to flip his ever-scruffy mane out of his eyes. Her heartbeat sped up ever-so-slightly as he ran his paws from her shoulders down her arms, and stepped back. She felt a smile spilling on to her own face, for the briefest of moments.

“We were wondering when you'd get back here. The High Shaman didn't give you a hard time, did he? He didn't--” Tovarus scowled, shaking his head, searching her expression, leaving his worst fears unvoiced.  
  


“Oh! No, no, he didn't do—you know—anything like that—I even still have my scepter--” She was quick to reassure him with fumbled words. “But I need to speak to Father,” came out in a rush.  
With one paw on her back, Tovarus escorted her through the obsidian and stone corridors towards the guest barracks room—which apparently (thankfully) they were the only ones to occupy at the moment. “What's going on?”  
“I—I should really tell father first.” She couldn't quite help herself from nervously fiddling with her scepter again once she was behind a closed door.  
  
Tovarus nodded towards the legionnaire at the far end of the room, quickly dropping his paw as Vituron Emberpride turned to greet his cub.  
“Father!” Auvela launched herself at her sire, who caught her, though with some effort, and took a few steps backwards to brace both their weights against the post of one of the beds. “What's this, cub?” Despite his gruff tone, everyone in the warband knew he loved having his daughter close to him, even if she did sometimes forget she was practically a fully-grown female now—a fact the legionnaire made sure his soldiers forgot about, too, quite forcefully.  
  


“I'm going to stay here. The High Shaman wants me to be here, with his battalion and—and keep on healing charr—he said if I did good I might even get to heal the Hierophant—but I'm not that good, father; there are so many who are better—and I said yes, because I _do_ want to help—but I don't want to leave you—and—and--” The torrent of words dissolved into hiccups, and she frowned, baring her teeth, trying to keep the sudden tears of she-didn't-know-what back by sheer force of will. “And he told me to come say goodbye to you.”  
_Soldiers don't cry!_ But in that moment she was grateful to be not-quite-a-soldier as the first drop leaked out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Hey.” The legionnaire set her gently down on the ground, sending a glare over her shoulder at some of the warband members who were more obviously eavesdropping, who immediately hurried to duck their heads and continue whatever they were doing. “Take a moment, kit, get yourself under control.” His tone was markedly soft.  
Auvela nodded over his shoulder, pressing her eyelids closed to chase out the last of her tears, sniffling slightly, and took a deep breath before she stepped back. “I'm sorry, Father. I'm sure it's an honor.” She gripped her scepter in her paws, twisting it. “Especially for someone like me.”  
  
“You're allowed to mourn losing your warband.”

She nodded.

“Do us proud.”

“I'll try, Father.”  
  
He pulled her in for another hug, a long one, and maybe she just imagined feeling something drip into the fur of her shoulder, because the legionnaire was dry-eyed when they separated again.  
  
Tovarus cleared his throat. “Does this mean we're out of a medic?”

“The High Shaman has jurisdiction over whatever he wants to.” Vituron's tone was half-growl, irritated. “I expect I'll receive a dispatch from him later today—or not, if he doesn't fucking feel like it—and we'll have to petition for another medic when we get back to the Citadel. In the meantime, Tovarus, you sit your tail down with Auvela and learn all you can.”  
The young elementalist—previously part of the warband's main magical firepower, as evidenced by his obsidian-colored claws and the slowly-forming sheen of lava on his forepaws—nodded.  
“Get your stuff and hightail it to your new barracks… Embersalve. Tovarus, go with her.”

 

Auvela didn't know whether to grin or cry again as her father called her by the name Ember warband had jokingly coined as her “band name”. She bit her lower lip and tried to not let the tears that were gathering in her eyes again fall, lifting her chin. She nodded.  
  
Legionnaire Emberpride saluted her, and she clumsily saluted back, and the rest of the warband followed suit, some dipping their heads as well—there was Kervekh, who still bore a scar across his muzzle and one eye that she was never quite able to heal, but he could still see somewhat out of the injured eye; and Zir, who flexed the left paw she had saved in a small wave; and Lerath, who still moved stiffly, and couldn't quite dip his head properly, but wasn't paralyzed like he very well could have been.  
  
“I'm going to miss you.”  
  
“That's clear. Now go!” The legionnaire's voice held a growl—though she could hear the pain behind it. And she grabbed her small bag—containing only two changes of clothes, a small bedroll, a makeshift pottery mess kit, and a few miscellaneous things like flint and tinder—and went, breaking into a sort of a jog as tears matted the fur on her muzzle again. She heard Tovarus' footsteps behind her, and though he wasn't Father, having someone from the warband still with her gave her some measure of comfort.

 

She only slowed to a stop in the middle of the courtyard. Tovarus placed a paw on her shoulder almost instantly. “Hey. Are you all right?”  
  
She laughed, a sort of half-choked sound. “I don't even know where my new sleeping quarters are.”  
  
“You can ask one of the females later. How about we head outside for a bit? Get some space for you to teach me.”  
  
“That—that sounds good.” She nodded, swiping a paw across her muzzle in an attempt to remove any trace of her tears, but she only succeeded in matting her fur further.

 

“She's with me.” Tovarus placed a paw firmly on her forearm as he nodded to the gate guard. “We'll be out for a couple hours.”  
  
“You can fuck her in here, can't you?” The guard scowled.

Tovarus drew her a bit closer to him, stepping in front of her and curling his lip. “But I don't want to. You can write me up if you want—Tovarus Embersmite—and have my hide if she's not safe in her quarters this evening.”

“Fine.” The guard drew out a small notepad, licking the tip of his pencil. “To-var-us Embersmite. And the female is--?”

“Auvela.”--“I'm called Auvela.” They both spoke at the same time, and the guard's scowl deepened.

“I wasn't talking to you, female.” Still, he scribbled the name in his notepad, and waved them through.  
  
Auvela broke into a jog once they were outside of the gates, Tovarus keeping up easily.  
  
“We probably shouldn't wander too far.” His tone was cautionary.  
  
“I know.” She slowed. “I just needed to—let it out, I don't know.” She sniffed, the last of her emotions cooling, at least for the moment. As father always said, _No use wasting time on things you can't change, kit._  
  
The area outside of the castrum was not overly pleasant—dried-out husks of trees surrounded by sandy dirt and patches of shallow, oily water—but it was friendly territory, and it was quiet, and they had space.  
  
Auvela slowly set her pack down on the ground. “So you know a basic numbing spell, right?”  
  
“I think. They taught us in the fahrar, the very basics, but it's been a while.”  
  
“Well, the first thing you want to do if a soldier is badly hurt is to numb the area to prevent them from going into shock. You cast the spell like this...”  
  
Auvela stumbled through the demonstrations, trying to impart the most basic and most important, most critical knowledge to save a life first. She was able to pull a decent set of lessons together from her admittedly still patchwork knowledge, and Tovarus was an attentive student, if not quite so innately skilled in water and ice magics. Even when he messed up he couldn't do much harm with healing spells, and so she snickered quietly until he grumbled at her irritably, and then she composed herself and encouraged him to try again.

 

She felt his eyes on her for the several hours in which they practiced, and she corrected him with patience, and they practiced again, chilling spells, soothing spells, sealing spells, regenerating spells, the simplest, the most effective.

And finally, they sat down in the sand, on a mutual, silent agreement to rest, both mentally and physically.

 

“May I say something?” Tovarus was sitting on the ground, facing her, leaning back on his forelegs.

“Why mayn't you say something?” She chuckled.  
  
Nodding, he dug around in the satchel laying on the ground beside him—a messenger-style bag he always carried instead of storing things on his belt or a sash like many other soldiers preferred. He seemed to find what he was looking for, but didn't draw it out of the bag just yet.  
  
The male's voice was soft, with an undertone she couldn't quite place, as he spoke. “You know, when I was first assigned to Ember out of the fahrar, I thought the legionnaire was crazy. Insane. Heretical. Because, y'know… you. I mean, I kept my muzzle shut because I didn't want to cause any waves, though I thought about reporting him a couple times.”  
  
Auvela's expression sobered, her heart skipping for a reason she couldn't quite place. She wasn't afraid of him—but _does he still think the same way about me?_  
  
He apparently noticed her agitation, her tail flipping back and forth, her fiddling with her scepter as she looked down. “Please, Auve, don't start thinking anything yet. I'm not done yet.”

She didn't look up, but he continued anyways.

“I'm glad I didn't. Your sire—the legionnaire—he's wiser than half the leaders I've met and I'm sure I will meet. I--” He swallowed, looking down himself even as she looked up, scrutinizing his face. “I'm glad I met you, Auvela. I won't forget you, not in a million years.”

 

He pulled the object he had been holding out of his satchel—a long spike of ice; clear and blue and a few black spots; shimmering and strangely attractive; beautiful, and showing no signs of melting—and held it out towards her. “Here. I want you to have this.”  
  
“Oh, I remember that! You found it when were stationed on the border to the Shiverpeaks! It's so pretty! You should keep it!” She grinned, eyeing the glittering spike of ice.  
  
“No, I want you have it, Auv-Auvela. Please.” He leaned forwards to lay it by her footpaws. “It's pretty magically charged. It'll make a great scepter. But I can't use it; my paw starts feeling numb if I use it for a long time. You're pretty good with ice magic, though.” He smiled at her.

 

“You're sure?” With a little squeal, she reached for the baton of ice, turning it over in her paws.

“I'm sure.” She could feel his eyes on her and she smiled as his grin widened.  
On an impulse, she rose into a crouch and leaped at him, intending to hug him but only really succeeding in knocking him down to the ground.

“Whoa, careful, Auve!” He laughed, even if he did sound slightly winded. “Warn me before you do that next time!”  
  
“Oh, right.” She climbed off him, rolling off to the side, looking sheepish as she tossed her braids back. “I'm sorry.”  
  
He rolled his shoulders, sitting back up. “I don't know how your sire handles that. You're not so light.”

“I guess I should stop--” She looked away and sighed.  
  


Tovarus shifted to move a little closer, to lay an arm around her shoulder, but he pulled back at the last moment, clearing his throat.

She glanced at him, a question in her eyes, that he didn't care to answer verbally, instead swallowing and carefully setting his arm over her shoulder.

“What's wrong, Tove?”

“Well, you're going away. I'm probably not going to see you again.”  
  
“Oh. Right.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

He tensed, then slowly relaxed over time, murmuring something under his breath.  
  
“What did you just say?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“If you say so.”

“I do.”  
  


They sat like that for several minutes, before Tovarus quickly, hesitantly, nuzzled her neck and stood again. “We should get back.”  
  
“I guess so. Uhm, thanks again for the ice scepter.”  
  
“Like I said, I think you can use it more effectively than I can.”  
  
“Maybe so.” Somber, she picked up her bag, and he his, and they made their way back towards the Castrum.  
  
She didn't know what to say further, and he didn't seem to either. He did slowly reach for her right paw with his left, and entwine their fingers together. She didn't know whether to smile or sniffle. _Now of all times…_  
  
The gate guard they had spoken to was still on shift and waved them back in, with a scowl, though he did make sure to cross their names off his little list.  
  
The pair lingered awkwardly in the courtyard for several heartbeats before Tovarus wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. “Auvela,” was all he murmured, and she said nothing, though she felt tears gathering again.  
  
She was happy to stay in his arms for however long he wanted her there, but eventually he stepped back, dipped his head to her, and left for the barracks. Trying to keep herself composed, she looked around for a guard or a female who could show her to her quarters.


End file.
